


Alone

by SeaPinecone



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Child Abuse, Depression, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, No Fluff, No Romance, all roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 12:22:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29609367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeaPinecone/pseuds/SeaPinecone
Summary: THIS TAKES PLACE IN EXILE and is my interpretation of how Tommy felt during this time.This story is written in the past tense, first person. Bear this in mind. (In this story, as with cannon, he ends up okay)CONTENT WARNING: abuse, manipulation, loneliness, mentions of difficulty to breathe, desire to commit su/cide, numbnessStay safe, okay? Have some water. Take a nap.
Kudos: 5





	Alone

**Author's Note:**

> Check. summary for warnings on what the following contains (could be triggering)  
> Also, prepare to cry? I guess?

My first day of exile, I felt bitter. The type of bitter like soil, the type of bitter like lemons, the type of bitter that makes you choke and cry. It soaked me fully.

Ghostbur was there. He was clueless, but nice. But he just reminded me that Wilbur was gone, but I never held that against him. For the most part.

I built a house with him. The blisters that stabbed at my arms, the splinters that dug into my fingers. They hurt, but the cold wind numbed it slightly.

It got colder.

At first, I couldn't sleep because of the cold. Shivering nights wrapped up in thin sheets. I built my house badly, and it swayed in the particularly strong winds. Ghostbur got me a new blanket.

But then I couldn't sleep because of the bitter. It made me feel sick. I worked on my house, roamed around the area, worked on the small community Ghostbur made for us. It was almost like L'Manberg, but it didn't have all the hate, and pain. That made the bitter go away.

But that didn't help me sleep. Then, once Ghostbur left at nightfall to go on his adventures that lasted days, I couldn't sleep because I missed him. Tubbo. I missed our shenanigans, I missed our L'Manberg, I missed our friendship. But it always left with tears on my pillow and tearing at the dry skin on my lips as I remember how he threw me out.

I didn't need him.

I thought.

I often touched the neckerchief he gave me. His old clothes, before L'Manberg, before war, got ripped easily. So, he scrapped the outfit in exchange for the uniform, and gave me the ripped pieces. Wilbur and I spent days sowing it into something wearable.

It took me a while to realise that I was even doing it. To realised that I was subconsciously rubbing the cloth worn. My fingers that ended up bloodied and the cloth that grew thinner and more torn made me notice.

On the coldest nights, the ones that Ghostbur happened to be around for, he tried to get as many blankets as possible for me. I always ended up freezing and shaking. He even tried giving me a hug, to warm me, but his ghostly body was frigid and made of icy wind. All it did was made me feel closer to death and colder. And make me miss Wilbur more, even though I appreciated Ghostbur's sentiment.

The morning after, I had woken up, seeing my breath in the air, and my shack, empty of everything but a wooden chest and my bed. Ghostbur was gone.

I couldn't be bothered to get up in the mornings after that. I had no one to talk to. Why did I even need to get up, if there was no one...

Every restless night I could remember as a toddler, Wilbur was there. Every lonely midnight I had as a child, Tubbo was there. Every trembling sleep that was broken by nightmares during my early teens in L'Manberg, had Eret comfort me. Every time I woke up drenched in a cold sweat after Eret betrayed me, it was Fundy, Niki, and Jack who hugged me until I could breathe steadily again.

Every day and night I spend here, shaking, waking up from feverish, spotting sleeps and every moment I spend with eyes too exhausted to keep mostly open, there was just glacial wind and memories that made me feel like I was going crazy. No one to wrap their arms around me. I was constantly, _hauntingly_ lonely.

A knot gathered in my stomach, and it latched itself to my gut. I started to miss Eret, the lonely made me feel so sick. The thought of trusting Eret, or Fundy, or Wilbur or _Tubbo_ , made me feel like my heart was going to stop. My breath would hitch. I would dissolve into panting blubbers, shaking violently under ragged bedsheets. But at the same time, I longed to feel like someone cared about me. For someone to show it, by hugging me. By sharing their warmth with me. Laughing with me.

After a while, hunger gave up on gnawing at my stomach.

Other friends came to visit me. Big Q, Technoblade. We built a house. I was drinking in their smiles, their laughter. Until I blinked, and they were gone. I looked at building and then at my dirtied hands and clothes ripped with labour and realised I had made it by myself. I couldn't even trust that anyone was visiting me after that. Ranboo might have just been a figment of my imagination.

I cried that day. I missed them.

The only people I know visited me was Badboyhalo, because I could touch, _hear_ the disc he brought me.

And Dream. Because I don't think I could imagine that.

I wanted to hate Dream, but I didn't have the energy anymore. Bowing my head was easier than trying not to scream when I got an axe embedded into my body for not complying.

He gave me life. When no one was there for me, I crumbled, and he was there to comfort me. And he was real. I could feel his warmth, even if he didn't let me touch him. I could smell food on his breath, even if he didn't let me have any. He was real. The fact heaved me out of bed every morning.

He let me play with his trident. It was then that I realised, when I touched the water for the first time, that I had been numb for months. I laughed as I was shot into the air. The fear in my belly as rain was replaced with snow, and Dream's warm face was replaced with empty cold was immeasurable.

I played that day, for the first time since before L'Manberg. Dream even let me give him a handshake as I returned his trident. His hand had warmth to it, and colour, and was reassuringly firm. I had forgotten that humans felt like that. That people didn't constantly shake like a frail shack in blasting wind.

I frantically mined resources to show him that I was strong, like him. I was kind, like him. I wanted peace, like him. I worked for hours and was always too exhausted to wash afterwards. My clothes were... paying for it, but that was okay.

At first, when he blew stuff up, it made me angry. Upset. _It wasn't fair_. But, still. He gave me food now, sometimes. He was someone I could talk to. He was real. When he ordered me to put my stuff in the hole... the way he looked at me, like I was an inconvenience to exist, like I was scum. It was not the same Dream who laughed at my jokes. When I complied, his gaze was not angry. It was approving. The same look President Soot always gave me when I had a good idea.

I decided I would rather have my stuff be blown up and see Dream happy, then see him angry. Because he told me I deserved it. And I trusted Dream. He gave me a better place to stay. He let me keep the community Ghostbur made for me. He helped me make cheer up, and gave me gifts, and he was the only person for miles that had a heartbeat just like mine.

In all fairness, I couldn't even guarantee I had a pulse most of the time.

I loved Dream. He was nice. He hurt me a lot, every day. But I deserved the pain. And he was forced to do it to me. Tubbo forced him. Tubbo left me. But despite it all, Dream stayed.

I started to feel emptier than before.

I wanted to talk to Dream, but I always felt less loved than before I saw him. I tried hugging him, but he always swatted me away. I was too weak to keep my balance.

I realised that I would go mad if I didn't get someone to talk to me like I wasn't prey. But better to be talked to like a piece of meat being played with than not at all.

_________  
  


Dream told me Christmas had arrived. I was built a tree, and some presents. Dream let me go into the Nether. It was hot, but it warmed up my skin at least. The exile was freezing, and I had no fat to keep me safe.

They walked into the portal. To Tubbo, and to L'Manberg, and to all of them. I walked over the bridge, but Dream warned me not to go through the portal.

As I stared into the lava, I thought about what they were doing. Having fun. Laughing. Tommy would be missing from them, but they wouldn't be sad. That's what Dream said.

**_Warning._ **

They said love was supposed to fill you up and make you warm and full. But Dream was nice to me, so he must love me, and I felt emptier than he had ever felt. I felt drained of love. Or any emotion. I felt cold on the inside. I wanted to press myself against something and devour its warmth to make my insides feel less hollow. I imagined the lava would do that. It would kill me, but I would feel warm and full again. Like I was loved. Like I could feel again.

The lava made me feel warmer than I had in something that felt like a lifetime. Even though I could barely feel it over the numbness. I leaned over the edge, heat blasting my face.

_Why not?_

_I needed to make sure I was even alive. What warmth felt like. I wanted-_

\----

I was punched to the side, the world swirling in black and crimson. I hit the floor. I sat up. Dream was stood over me, hoodie turned yellow in the light. He offered a hand. His face under the mask was unmoving, the little bit I could see from the lower angle.

  
"Tommy, it's not your time to die." He commanded.

My blood felt like it was trembling.

He knew. What I was thinking. He was still wearing that stupid smile.

I glance at the lava and back at Dream. I cleared my throat, my vocal cords raspy and thick.

"It's never my time to die."

\- - -

**Author's Note:**

> Aight leave a kudos, give it here (if you liked it). I did this mostly because I feel like people often overlook how traumatic exile was and how much he missed Tubbo, and people often don't understand Tommy's motives in switching to Tubbo's side, so I hope I expressed how much Tubbo meant to him here. :))


End file.
